Legends Yet Unwritten
by IronRaven
Summary: Aizawa's class is, in a word, problematic. And they have a problem, him. A collection of day in the life drabbles and philosophical musings from their perspectives. Characters added as it progresses.
1. Everthing in its Place

**Legends Yet Unwritten**  
**Chapter One: Everything in it's place.**

Aizawa didn't know why he woke up. Or, he did know why- the bed was cold, he was too free to roll around. He didn't even have a cat sprawled across the bed, taking up most of the room, much less other bodies. Sure, that was it. He was still unable to adapt to sleeping alone.

He stretched under the blankets, before throwing them back with a gasp at the chill. His boots sat next to the bed, his jumpsuit pooled around he ankles. That was the only, singular good thing about sleeping alone. He could put his boots there and no one would trip over them. He swung around, his bare feet finding them automatically. He pulled the black fabric up to his knees and pushed his hands down the sleeves, before he stood. Zip. He already knew his knife, ID, eyedrops and flashlight were in his pockets. The phone went into it's pocket, then the goggles were moved from their pocket and put around his neck. A length of capture weapon was already was already in the thigh pocket, a packet of caltrops and a pair of socks in the other. He leaned down, and tucked the laces into his boots.

No, it wasn't that there was a lack of warmth and safe scents that woke him. Something was out of place. "What are they doing now?"

He walked out of his suite, the soles of his boots and his deceptively easy gait made him utterly silent as he roamed the halls. Even the brushed surface of his coverall was soft enough that there wasn't even a scrape of cloth as he walked. Honestly, the loudest sound was breathing, or maybe the click of his knee. He hated that sound. He was getting old and he'd turned 30 not that long ago. Others had similar aches and scars. Heroing was a young man's game.

The kids all had their lights off. Doors showed as locked. The snorers were all in their place, as were the talkers. One or two had night lights showing from under the doors, but there wasn't anything that looked like screenlight. He had put in a rule- lights out at 10, your room light off by 11. Someone was out of place...

He slipped slowly down the steps, staying to the very center by habit. There wasn't a single creak, not even on flight two, stair seven which had it's slight creak on the inner edge. The underground had taught him to survive and he never tried to turn the instincts off. Mic found it tiring, which is why the blond was unplugged at home, behind locked doors. And why he could sleep through two cats trying to hide under him during an earthquake.

Aizawa sighed through his nose. He wanted to go home. He slept better at home. But at home, he would't sleep at all, wanting to be here.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he could see the problem. The living room blinds were drawn, which was weird, but he could see enough from the various clocks and indicator lights. A troublemaker. There was was a lump on one of the couches. There was a neatly stacked set of books on the table, a blanket pulled over the lump. There was a soft snore from the lump, a familiar, birded headed silhouette.

Fumikagi wasn't one of the usual troublemakers.

One of the shadows unwrapped itself from the boy and slithered over to Aizawa, pressing a finger shape to it's beak. "Please... he's been cramming for Miss Midnight's art test. He hasn't been sleeping well."

Aizawa shrugged, then yawned. Now he knew what was out of place. It wasn't like the time Mineta had started the dishwasher just before lights out- Aizawa just hadn't thought of it as a source of slight vibrations in the building, never having owned a machine to wash dishes. This was harmless.

"Eh... Get him up before anyone else wakes up, and don't make a habit of it." Aizawa started to turn to go back up the stairs. "Oh, and I-"

"-was never here." Dark Shadow threw him a thumbs up. As much as he sometimes rankled at being bound to this mortal, he did truly care for his other half. "And this never happened, right Caterpillar-sensei?"

Aizawa's eyebrow twitched. He knew that was one of the things the brats called him. He's been called worse. But... whatever. He could go back to sleep. He waved his hand lazily, dismissing the issue. He needed his sleep to.

He denied it if others called him accused him of becoming a "dad", but worrying about these kids was exhausting. Kan had the easy class. The safe class. The ones who obeyed, who were nice. The ones who weren't behind in their curriculum. The ones that didn't call him from the hospital. Who didn't have bullseyes on their backs. Who didn't sleep because nightmares were easier than memories. The ones who wouldn't be legends.

Kan could get a good nights sleep.

Aizawa wouldn't say it, but he had the better bunch of brats. He smiled as he faded into the dark going back upstairs.

**Author's Notes:** Corvids should stick together, so I'm kicking this off with Fumikagi.

And I'm not immune to Dadzawa. I'd be a lot like like him if I was in his place. I'd never admit it, I wouldn't even call them "my kids" where they could hear me. "Those brats" and "damn punks" and "what-did-they-do-now", they'd hear that. And what they would hopefully come to learn is that as "The Power That Be" in their world, heaven and hell alike bow to my authority, and my protection, where they are concerned.

As for that click in his knee, it's on loan from me. I've had it for 20 years, and if it wasn't there, I'd freak out.

Ashido is next!


	2. All Things In Perspective

**Legends Yet Unwritten  
Chapter Two: All Things in Perspective**

"Why? What is wrong with me? I was a better student before I came here!" Mina dropped her head into her notebook. She was desperate, and at the end of her rope. If she failed one more of Ectoplasm-sensei's tests Aizawa would kick her out! She pressed her horns to the notes, letting out a sob.

"Hey, don't give up. I got Monoma to pass, and that is saying a lot." Kendo looked over the test. "I don't know why you came to me, though."

The pink girl shook her head. "I've asked Yaomomo. I've asked Blasty. I've asked Mineta." Her head came up, black and gold eyes burning into the redhead's glance. "Mineta, Kendo! Mineta! And I still can't pass!"

Normally, that would have been a slightly stomach twisting admission, but Kendo was frowning. "Do you have more of your tests and quizzes?"

Pages flipped to an under current of muttering as Mina dug out prior tests from the slightly disorganized pocket in her binder. Kendo's face was frozen in the frown as she did the same from her more orderly system. She laid them all out on the table, hers next to Mina's.

"Okay... You're getting more wrong than I am, but not a D. Did you work your percentage out?" When Mina shook her head, Kendo raised an eyebrow. She started going through the tests. "Why do you guys only have a letter grade, and not a percentage on your tests? Thats... huh." She did the math again. "Weird..."

Then she went through the rest of the papers. Mina looked on, the fear replaced with dread. "What is it?"

Kendo passed over the paper she'd been doing her notes on. "So, I have just barely an A. I've got a 93. I went through your tests. But Ken-sensai got us the answers so we can use it as a study aid. You've got a D, but your percentage is an 81. You've just accepted your letter grade, right?"

Mina stared incredulously before letting out a shrill, wordless shriek.

-UA-

Mina had wanted to do something like melt off all of Eraser Head's hair, but she got talked out of it. She was still swearing as she followed Kendo across campus towards the main building where they could see a light on in the evening. "If this doesn't work, I'm still going to kill that-"

"Relax, Pinky. Please. We'll do this by the book." Kendo shook her head. Half of 1-A was hot heads, not just Bakugo. Or maybe he was a bad influence. "We need to talk to the headmaster and get this straightened out. Kendo was pretty sure there was something broken someplace. She'd gone over the other girl's tests in English, to- those were harder to evaluate, but she was pretty sure her grade was supposed to be better. A similar discrepancy showed up in literature and art history.

Each clutched their notebooks to their chests as they took the stairs to the top floor of the admin building. And sure enough, Nedzu was still in his office, along with a woman it took them a moment to recognize Kayama-sensei in civilian attire. Kendo knocked. "Excuse us, Sensai, do-"

"Eraser is screwing me!"

Midnight gasped, "What?!"

Nedzu frowned. While what they had been going over was important, this was more so. He glanced over at the art teacher, being very aware of her relationship with with both Aizawa and Yamada. "Come in, girls. Young Ashido, there are many ways to misinterpret your statement. Please clarify yourself."

Mina slammed her notebook down on the desk with both hands. "My grades are broken! And he's crazy!"

Kendo sighed. Yep, 1-A was a collection of hotheads. "Mina asked me for help with math. She's tried tutoring with other members of 1-A with no change, so she came to me in desperation. I noticed that her letter grades seem to be out of line with her percentages when compared to my grades."

Nedzu let out a sigh of relief. It could have been much worse. He sipped his tea to hide the smile on his lips as he looked at the crimson face of Nemuri. "That is what I was hoping you'd say. I can't imagine how it could have been... other explanations."

Mina flushed crimson as well. "What, no, it's just... Something is wrong! I'm not that bad of a student and he's going to kick me out and..."

"Mina, take a deep breath. Sensei, I told him this would blow up in his face."

"As did I. Young Kendo, I'm of a mind to tell you to discuss this with no one, but you know too much for that to do any good. We will have to trust your judgement. Please, sit, both of you." He waited as the students found chairs. "Your assessment of the situation is completely correct."

Mina frowned. "Huh?"

"Don't grunt, it is an uncouth privilege of your elders. And no, it isn't fair. But your home room teachers have full authority to manage their classes as they see fit. Aizawa-sensei sees things... differently." Nedzu looked down at the two notebooks. He took the more shockingly colored one on a hunch, looking through it until found the tests. "Yes... that would be about right."

"But Sensei! It isn't fair!" Wailed Mina. She looked like she was about to cry.

"Aizawa has convinced me that while it is potentially controversial there are merits to his idea. Your instructors have been asked to apply a different set of thresholds for 1-A's letter grades than are used for 1-B or the non-Hero courses." Nedzu cleared his throat softly. "I was reluctant, given that the Hero course academics are already an advanced placement equivalent with accelerated curriculum."

"What?" This time, it came from Kendo. Ashido it would seem was speechless.

"Its true." Midnight nodded. "You are doing more, faster, than the General Studies and Support students are."

"But why?"

"Because you are enrolled in the Hero course at UA." Nedzu stated it like it was an inarguable, unquestionable and self explanatory fact. Because it was. UA's hero program was the best of the best. The best were capable of more. They had to be.

"Mina..." Kayami started. "Mina, this is your third term with Aizawa as your home room teacher. Why do you think he's doing this?"

"Because he's a horrible human being! He hates us! He wants us to fail! He told us that the first day! He wants us to fail so he can sleep! He threw out an entire class and he wants to throw us out and he's mean!" The pink girl's eyes were full of tears.

Midnight shook her head. "That isn't the Aizawa Shota I've know for years. You know the reason, he's explained himself until you're probably sick of hearing it."

Kendo could only watch. It was slow moving pile up, or watching a family fight when it wasn't your family. She'd heard stories and rumors, some from Ken-sensei himself. Someone had discovered that the year book for Aizawa and Yamada's third year wasn't in the library. It wasn't out, it wasn't even in the catalog. And he was an underground hero, a vigilante with a license. Monoma could be silenced just by saying the man's name- he'd whispered the story about Aizawa-sensei stomping and kicking a member of the League to death, until 'there was nothing but mud', and Aizawa never changing expression as he did it. She would have been uncomfortable with him, but no more, if it was wasn't for Ken-sensei's threats to transfer the troublesome members of the class to Class A with the promise that they wouldn't last a day. She knew she was a little old to believe in a monster under the bed, but... Aizawa was out there in the shadows. Waiting.

Kendo glanced towards the windows with a nervous reflex. Always waiting.

Mina snerked back on her nose as she fought tears. While her acid glands were the strongest in her hands and feet, all of her sweat glands and mucus membranes made acid, and she was aware of it. "Be... because he doesn't think we're good enough."

"Tosh, young lady. If he didn't think you were good enough, you wouldn't be here."

"But Nedzu-sensei... why? Why does he do this? Why is he like this?"

"Ahh..." The mouse-man sighed. "Nemuri?"

"He hasn't told you why he threw an entire class out. I know he hasn't. And maybe he should, but he's stubborn. We've told him he should." Midnight pinked slightly. "It was his second year teaching. Someone played a prank on a classmate. And that student died. Another lost an eye, two more spent several weeks in the hospital." She watched as the two girls swallowed. The potential for abuse or even just accidents from carelessness were to be driven into them during the first term because of this event. "Apparently no one knew anything about it before hand. So either no one saw a thing, or everyone lied. And some of those who lied did nothing to stop it. What would you have done? Mina?"

Pinky blinked tears away. She couldn't imagine anyone in her class doing something like that. Not even Bakugo, his problem was feeling when he should be thinking. Maybe Mineta, but the creep wasn't that bad and he was more likely to get himself hurt. "I... I would have thrown them all out. And then quit."

"I wouldn't let him quit." Nedzu's voice was soft, distant. He couldn't. When he's been their teacher, he'd liked Aizawa, and would not stand by and watch his student go back into the underground. Underground heroes had five times the mortality rate than those who embraced the limelight and cameras and all the pop culture expectations. As much as it annoyed him at times, all of them, it made their lives safer. The logic of it made no sense to him, but he understood it. So did Aizawa, even if he to hated it.

Kendo quietly reached for her papers, looking at the grades on them. She was glad she was in 1-B, where she had the safe, sane teacher who wasn't trying to destroy them. "I see."

"What?" Mina's forehead was scrunched in confusion.

Nedzu's beady black eyes focused on the pinkette. "Young Ashido, if you make mistakes as a hero, what happens?"

Mina swallowed. "People get hurt. Villians get away." She knew that. They'd told her that so many times. It seemed like he liked trying to scare them with the statistics, reading news stories to them if a hero got hurt. They'd all fought and not just training or the sports festival or to get their license. They'd fought to live. Every time, she had that pit in her stomach, that black silent scream in the back of her mind. If she knew it was coming, too nervous to sleep the night before; always, too wound up to sleep afterwards. Then she'd drag the next day. The tension at the corners of her eyes. Aizawa had that tension. "He... he's scared."

Midnight nodded. "He'd rather you hate him than to have to tell your parents why one of you kids aren't coming home again. Please don't tell him I said that."

"But why math? Or english?"

Nedzu leaned forward in his chair. "English is nearly universal, but a mistranslation could lead to disaster during an international operation. Particularly ad hoc ones like-" He cut himself off, glancing at the 1-B representative- I-Island was a secret, the students hadn't been in the middle of it. Just like the details of that unsanctioned rescue mission in Kamino. "And everything is based on math. But more importantly, the theory is to condition you to the point you envision the smallest margin of error as possible. I think Aizawa may be taking it to a slight extreme, but it is his class. It isn't fair, but who is it unfair to?"

"Japan is full of unfairness." Ashido stared down at her knees. Aizawa had said that to them... how long ago? Less than a year? Was it only that long ago? _It is the heroes' job to change that._ And it wasn't fair. But it was right. Her fingers tightened. She'd seen the changes in the class now that they'd seen the real thing- Midoriya, Todoroki, Iida. Bakugo had changed. Kaminari had changed a lot. And so had she. She still wanted it to be fun, but she knew that fun wasn't part of the equation for a hero sometimes. "It's the hero's job to change that," she uttered the words slowly.

Kendo frowned- it sounded like a quote, but nothing she'd heard before. Ken-sensei had taught them about duty, but that with duty came honor. The adoration of the people. Heroes kept the peace. They made everyone safer by existing, and as a pro hero she'd have a tax-free government check, plus whatever she could make on the side from endorsements and the like. That was fair, right?

-UA-

The next morning, Mina made a point of actually being on time for class. Not just slipping in with Aizawa coming down the hall, but before about a third of the class. And after homeroom, she waited a moment, standing by the teacher's desk.

Who is it unfair to? Nedzu-sensei's words had filled her brain all night, when she should have been working and sleeping. There was a lot of people it wasn't fair to.

"Ashido. I understand you had a question about grading?" He didn't bother to look up from what he was reading.

"Yes, sir."

"Is there a problem?" His voice didn't change, but he did look at her. Nemuri told him everything last night. He was honestly surprised that it had been noticed at all- no previous class did. He was rather proud that one of his students picked up on what was different.

The tightness was in his eyes. It never left. Every second of every class, every trip, every exercise, it was never not there. It was the way he was, so it wasn't obvious. "No, sir. I just... Thank you."

Aizawa's eyebrow twitched upward. "You have an english quiz later today. Do you think you're ready? I understand Yamada-sensei was gloating and using the word 'diabolical' in the teacher's lounge this morning."

"Uhm..." Swiftly, she crouched down and flung her arms around her still seated teacher. Aizawa's eyes went wide, then it was over. She stood up, grinning. Aizawa was one of the people it wasn't fair to- he was responsible for them. Not just today, or this year, or all of their time at UA. He was responsible for them forever. That when one of them screwed up, he'd be asking himself what he could have done differently. He'd taken that on himself, and none of them could take it away now. "I am now."

"Good." Aizawa frowned. "Don't make a habit of that."

**Authors Notes:** There are those who think being in Class 1-A grants special privileges. What they don't understand is that some privileges are terrible. Special privileges for Aizawa's class.

Aizawa the monster. Aizawa the nightmare, the merciless. Aizawa who cares enough to know that these aren't _just_ kids, and they aren't at _just_ a school. Aizawa, who has, sadly, lost the ability to turn "it" off. Ever. He has traded the fuzzy pats of being a teacher, being loves by students, for making sure they are safe. Dedications to him at concerts and shows and festivals, no, nothing for him, everything for the people they will protect and to each other. Special little gifts on the days that other teachers get mugs and flowers and candy, no, just give him the gift of no more funerals. No more wheelchairs or seeing eye dogs. No more retiring for medical reasons at 25. No more pain, no more nights wondering where he screwed up.

And as a result, yeah, he needs a hug.

And Vlad is right. Monoma wouldn't last a day. This scale makes an Aizawa-D a low B for 1-B students.


	3. Preamp

Legends Yet Unwritten  
Chapter Three: Preamp

One of the problems I have as an author is the reputation. I try to be grim, I try to make it hurts, and I hear "Daww... Raven only writes the fluffies. The fluffiest fluff. Da Waven iz soo fwuffy!"

Yeah... Fwuff that.

-  
-ua-  
-

Kyouka Jirou slowly became aware of the her breathing, like a quiet reed flute being played from the forest at the end of the valley. Slow, steady. Then she could hear a soft hum, like from an air return, a deep whispering from above the hills, the drone of a far off bagpipe. And a beep. Slow, in harmony with the four parts of each heart beat. Electronica and drums for rhythm. A deep basso rumble she could feel more than hear, hunger a adding it's track to the music. A steady vibration on the strings of her nerves, the note shifting as she twitched her fingers and curled her toes. She smiled as the song started to write itself in her head. The music was her life.

Well, the electronica was new. Then she remembered... her head hurt. A lot. Her brows furrowed as she tried to remember how she'd forgotten that. Like feedback... "owww".

"And thank you for tuning in, little listener. How are you feeling?"

Jirou didn't need to open her eyes to recognize Yamada-sensei. She cracked one eye open though, and flinched. "Yeah. Owww."

"Don't sit up. Shota would have my head if you broke yourself. Signal check, how do I read?"

Yeah, sitting up would be bad. Jirou forced her eye to stay open. Yamada-sensei looked different with his hair down. And he looked nervous. What ever happened hadn't made her forget that you read a signal for strength and clarity, with a low of one and a high of five. "I read you four by five. You're usually an 11 by 4. Where are we? What happened?"

Present Mic smirked at that- of course he'd go to 11. That she could remember the joke was a good sign. "Mustufa General, the neurology ward. Recovery Girl and the doctors here agree you should be good. Let me get get the doctors, they'll want to check on you." He reached for the call button, but he paused, turning his hand to make it a thumbs up. "Don't tell Aizawa I said this, but welcome to the big show, kid. This is your first Pro Hero Concussion- that means you're in the club, Earphone Jack."

"Thanks. I think."

-ua-

The doctors had shooed Present Mic out of the room so they could evaluate her condition. They checked her eyes, her ears, listened to her heart, asked her basic questions. They seemed happy with the results. But they didn't ask her what had happened, nor had they told her anything other than she was in excellent condition. They gave her the bedpan, unwilling to let her walk. Before the shame of that had passed, they gave her a shot, and told her that sleeping was a good thing.

When next she woke, Midnight was watching her. "Hey there, kid. How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling better. Starving."

"I love a healthy appetite- it's a good sign. They serve breakfast in about two hours." Midnight paused for a moment, looking over the young woman. "Do you remember what happened?"

"I was on the train, coming back from my workstudy. I'd gotten delayed with paperwork, and told the others to go ahead because I'd fine on my own. I grabbed a meat roll at a konbini and caught the next train. We were about three minutes out when my headset picked up chatter- there was a villain on the loose, possibly headed for the train station..."

-  
-ua-  
-

"Lurkers, this is provisional hero Earphone Jack. I've been listening to your situation. I am ETA Mustafa station five minutes; can you send me a description? I can block him if he's gotten to the station.."

"This isn't your beat, kid." Jirou was pretty sure the unidentified voice was Mt Lady.

"Oh, she owns all the beats." Kaminari's voice was instantly recognizable, along with a couple cackles from her classmates. Jirou blushed- it was so unprofessional. Any other time, it would be cute, but it would be a cold day in hell before she would tell him that, or even admit it to Momo.

"Edgeshot here. Chargebolt, that sounds like you vouch for her ability? All right, send her the photos we've got of this guy. Consider him very dangerous, his quirk is density manipulation restricted to his own body. Calls himself the Onepunch Wonder, and he has a history of violence. Nice to have you there. Call out if you see him."

-  
-ua-  
-

"I waited at the station where I could see the the platform, ticket counter and two of the three entrances. This guy came running in, with a duffle bag in his hand. He fit the description, so I called him in. My plan was observe and wait for backup. I was only going to engage if tried to get on a train. He bought a ticket, don't know to where. Then he noticed me, and started to run. Clubbed an old man who didn't move fast enough, he went down. I continued to follow, using my quirk and support to tell people to get out of the way. He jumped down on the tracks and ran. We got out of the station, maybe a hundred yards before he threw the bag over the chainlink fence. Shouted for everyone to stay away from it, as he tried to climb the fence. I grabbed his leg and pulled him down, ordering him not to resist..." Jirou frowned, trying to remember.

"What happened then?"

She tried to rack her memory, and there was no answer. "I don't remember. I think he resisted."

Midnight nodded, pulling out a small tablet. "Do you want to see this? If you don't, I understand, no one wants to watch their ass get kicked. The masochist in me kinda likes it, but I'm not everyone." Nemuri blushed a little as she held the slab out.

"Sure. I guess." Jirou took the device. She didn't know the person who's social feed this was on, but they had a lot of likes. Recent likes- maybe people did enjoy seeing her getting knocked out. Stain's words had become popular- she'd ridden the train looking at a creep with that lunatic's face on his shirt. Despite that, she had become convinced that Kayami-sensei said outrageous things mostly just to see how people reacted to the openness. "Where is Aizawa-sensei? I'm surprised he isn't here yet."

"He's been here a couple times, but there has been paperwork and..." Kayami said, giving a twisted yet sad grin. "I was with him when he debriefed the Lurkers. He got all their comments, questioned them. Then he sent the workstudy kids in the other room, and started to dissect the Pros. You know how he does it."

"Yeah. That look, and then he doesn't scream or swear and you kind of wish he would." That was the worst thing about it. Aizawa-sensei never said he was disappointed any more. He would just give them a cold look, and they'd know. He knew they could do better. All Might was even worse, he'd just look sad.

Midnight nodded. "This time he was shouting. Mt Lady was trying to hide behind Kumai Woods."

_Wow_. That was one of the more shocking things she'd heard in weeks. Her home room teacher never raised his voice- he could project, he had masterful command of his voice, but she hadn't heard him really raise it, not even at the USJ. The one scream had been involuntary, from the pain. "He shouts?"

"When it is something really important, yeah. It's pretty epic." It really had been- she'd been afraid she was going to have to get in between him and the others. One student in the hospital with a surgical team on standby if she'd taken a sudden change, and a second in police custody pending a use of force investigation and unable to remember his actions due to the nature of his Quirk, that made it really important. If there hadn't been so many witnesses, including the footage of Jirou getting kicked in the head and ribs repeatedly, they wouldn't have been able to get Kaminari behind UA's walls. Jirou's x-rays and a License made the investigation a formality, but Shota wanted his kids back to the school. Now. Nedzu-sensei understood that until Shota was able to stay at the hospital himself, it had to be her or Hizashi. If they were at the school, anyone could sit with them, but outside it's walls, it had to be him or someone he trusted with much more than just his life or he'd be frantic.

Jirou sat there, looking at the tiny screen. The image was frozen, Oneshot turning to face her as she appeared at the edge. The picture of her looked scared but confident. The more she looked at it, the more she realized that no, she didn't really want to watch this. She knew that she could look forward to Aizawa showing the whole thing to the class and taking it apart. "Actually, I think I"ll watch this later. I'm going to sleep for a bit."

As Nemuri took the tablet back, she knew something that her student didn't. As much as Shota would go over the mistakes of the pros,he would not make his students autopsy their own failures. And not in public. In a few weeks, this one might be ready to ask one of the instructors what she did wrong.

-ua-

When she woke up, it was the same round of poke and prod and recording everything that she was pretty sure the machines were recording on their own. But Jirou also knew that she would never take someone else's word for it that an instrument was tuned without checking it herself. The good news was that they let her pee on her own. The bad news was that they wanted to take x-rays before breakfast.

The meal was omurice (with squid ink and both chicken and pork), miso with burdock root, and fruit, with a surprisingly weak tea. She's been told it was because caffeine was not recommended during recovery from a concussion. As when she'd had her appendix out, the food was good, but the miso wasn't as good as what she'd become accustomed to. They'd had to cook their evening meal for themselves after the first few weeks in the dorms, and on his nights Bakugo had reason to preen. His miso was amazing, to the point Yaoyorozu had tried to buy and even to beg the recipe from him for her family's chef. He'd refused- but he'd taught it to her on the condition that Creati never write it down. (Kyouka had had to leave the room to keep from laughing when Bakugo drafted Todoroki to be the taste tester.)

She'd asked Midnight if her phone had survived, but it hadn't. The good news was that she uploaded just about everything every day. She had lost a couple pictures and part of a song she'd been working on, but not much and the only picture she had needed for work she'd already sent where it needed to go.

Aizawa arrived mid morning with something other than hospital scrubs for her to wear and Recovery Girl. The Healing Hero checked her out, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. Sure, that was how it worked, but it was like a kiss from a grandmother, or a really distant aunt. She laughed as Jirou rubbed her forehead. "There... how do you feel, young lady?"

"Better. Still have a headache, it comes and goes."

"You will. Your last x-ray shows no permanent damage. You're lucky that young man showed up when he did- you had multiple skull fractures, a broken jaw, multiple broken ribs and a cracked sternum. I can't fix it if you're dead. A few more kicks to either your head or your chest would have done that." She looked the young woman in the eyes, holding them for several second. It was some of her finest work. "Well, I need to arrange for your exit paperwork..." With the soft thump of her cane and a jerk of her chin, Shuzenji-sensei beckoned Midnight from the room.

Jirou felt her insides twist a little. Aizawa was silent as he looked at her, not blinking. He was still, she could barely even see that he was breathing. And he just kept staring with a look she'd never seen before. "Sensei? Am I in trouble?

"No." He frowned. He would give anything to trade with this young woman. He'd surrender his license, give up teaching. He'd let his quirk be taken for ever, and then sent to prison. He even knew the charges- contributing to the delinquency of a minor, and child endangerment. But at the same time, he knew these things happened, and this was as good an outcome as he could hope for. She was alive, and wouldn't even have any physical scars. "I spoke with your parents. They will be visiting at the school later today, it was the earliest they could get back."

"They don't have to."

"Yes, they do. So they know you are ok." He looked down. He'd apologized profusely to the Jirous, as had Edgeshot. The Lurkers had been emphatically informed that when it came to his students, gods and devils bow to his judgement or answer to him. "I've been in and out, but you were always sleeping. And the police had no idea what do with Kaminari."

The rhythm section in her chest picked up, the beep chasing her heart. And making her head hurt. "The police? Is Kaminari under arrest?"

"No. He was in no shape to be wandering around on his own, someone had to come get him." " He'd been checked over at the scene. If it wasn't for the brain-fry being a known side effect of his quirk, the young man would probably be in the police ward down the hall. They'd stitched and bandaged him, though, and handed him over to the police before he'd recovered. Aizawa would rather they'd put him in the hospital, so he could deal with it all in one place. Running around like this was tiring, and Shota knew it made him difficult for those who cared about him. "He is under campus restriction while they investigate."

"What is there to investigate?"

"There are eye witnesses who say he went over the fence and tackled the villain. Told him to stay down, and the villain didn't... " He sighed. Teaching wasn't easy as it looked. Particularly these kids. His kids.

"Sensei?

Aizawa put on his go-to-court face before looking past her and focusing his eyes on a point inside the wall. "Multiple eyewitnesses describe the Provisional Hero Chargebolt pinning the perpetrator against a lamp post that was part of the safety fence to interrupt a homicide in progress, before discharging his electrical quirk at contact range. It grounded through the lamp post, resulting in a black out that lasted eighty-four minutes and effected most of central Musutafu including the train station and switch yard. A localized electromagnetic pulse effect destroyed most computing devices within fifty meters and temporarily disabled most that were not shielded by heavy walls for two hundred. When the first police officer arrived on seen less than two minutes later, they found Chargebolt in a dazed state at the side of victim, the Provisional Hero Earphone Jack."

Jirou blinked. She knew a lighting bolt could be destructive, but that was more that he was capable of. He was up to five million volts, but not the amps for that kind of damage. 'Volts hurt, amps kill' was something her father told her when she first started learning how to set up electrical for a show. And that meant Kaminari had... "He fried the guy?"

Aizawa just looked at her, before digging his phone out. "Yes." He had to enter several passwords, before he got to where he wanted. "Watch. This is the body camera footage of the first officer on screen. There are a couple of videos of the assault on you that were streamed in real time and saved as they went up, but most of what we'd expect was destroyed." He turned the device around, his thumb sliding up the volume.

What had been an aluminum lamp post was a puddle of metal and half of a toppled lamp post. The villain was... not in any condition to fight. Or do much of anything, other than twitch. Chargebolt was kneeling, holding her hand in his both of his, babbling as his blood ran down his arm from cuts and mixed with hers. She'd heard him overload himself before, many, many times. Depending on the situation, it could be funny or annoying. It was like that.

No.

It wasn't.

It wasn't like that at all.

It wasn't the strutting, proud and stupid at the same time Jamming-whey. It wasn't her Chargedolt.

It was the sound of something breaking, wailing the same three words over and over again between sobs. "Kyouka no go... Kyouka no go...

Her breath caught in her chest. It wasn't the blood from where she'd been kicked in the head, or where it soaked into her shirt. She was unconscious, she didn't remember how much it had to have hurt. He'd never used her given name But the more he said it, the more frantic it got."He thought I was dying?"

"You need to decide what to say, and then talk to him. He doesn't remember what he did, and he hasn't asked once if he's in trouble. He asked if you were safe, and I told him you were. Then he told me it was worth it. I-" Aizawa stopped, as if testing his next words. After a moment, he found ones that worked. "One of the hardest conversation I've ever had was after... a friend. A lady friend... She got hurt on patrol."

He'd been the one who'd gotten the call of a hero down in a fight, a knife in her back. He had seen the perp with bloody hands, wiping them on a wall, and hit the man. The man went down, hard, still wanting to fight. It was only after the police came had he been told it was Midnight. He'd been very close to opening the back of the cruiser and breaking the filth's neck. He didn't know who it was who took him to the hospital. She spent eight hours in surgery. A shopping list of damage, of organs removed, she'd nearly been disemboweled when a 40cm knife had been stabbed through her a dozen times and nearly severed a kidney. They said it took thirty units of blood, and she died twice on the table. Nine days she was unconscious, and four follow up surgeries. Yamada had been told to remove him from the facility on hygiene reasons on day five- Mic took him home, and once the door was closed, Aizawa started bawling. He felt like he'd failed, failed this beautiful friend. Failed to realize he loved her, and when he said it out loud he felt guilty, like he'd failed and cheated on another friend who he'd also been afraid to admit his true feelings for. Yamada told him that it was ok, there was nothing wrong with loving more than one person- it wasn't because he was greedy, but because he could love. That love is why he was a hero.

Doing this job, only love could blind you enough that you wouldn't think it was a bad idea. Love made it so it couldn't be 'someone else's problem'. There was so much he wasn't teaching this kids, that he needed to. Teach them so they didn't have to learn the hard way.

"Sensei?"

"Just tell him. Whatever the truth is, tell him. So he knows."

-ua-

Alone in her dorm room, her headache left. Her parents had wanted to know she'd be ok- Recovery Girl had been called over from her dispensary when her father still needed reassurance. Jirou talked him into not cancelling the Hong Kong, Seoul and Daegu shows- sure, Deep Dope was the warm up act, but was still an international tour and they had second billing. Unlike her father, who hadn't wanted to stop hugging her and making sure she was ok, her mother had taken it in stride. It worse than having the electrical system burst into flames in the middle of a show, but not quite bad as when they had gone to the States and learned that the instruments had failed to make the connection at some point. Bad, but not the end of the world. Which is how Jirou felt about it.

She'd chased them out half an hour ago. The band had gone on ahead from the last of the Malaysia shows and was already in Hong Kong, and her parents had to meet them there. And she was tired, she'd been told to keep it quiet. But there were other reasons she had tried to push them out the door, even if she didn't want to. It was almost the end of class, and she wanted to talk to someone before Yaomomo and Mina and the others charged in. Aizawa had been right- and she knew the beat and the notes of what she wanted to say. But she hadn't found the words. She was sitting in the middle of her bed, knees up to her chin as she tried to come up with the right ones.

The soft knock at the door made her jump. "Jirou?"

She thought she was ready for this, but she still gasped at the sound of his voice as she forgot her lines. Her heart beat changed at the sound of him. His range was lower, and it was rougher than usual, almost gravelly. Like he'd been crying or screaming. "Come in."

She could hear the deep breath through the door, and there was still a pause before he opened the door, sticking his head in. He had his trade mark grin in place, but it wasn't quite reaching his eye. "Hey!"

"What do you need?" Her eyes slipped down from his face, taking in the cuts on the back of his hand and on his chin, the bandage wrapped around his arm. He'd gotten hurt to.

He sighed, the grin slipping. "Is there anything I can get you? Something to drink? I..." The grin fell. "You're going to be ok, right?"

"Yeah. I'm taking the rest of the day off, then go easy on the training and music for a week. I should be back to normal by then."

"Jirou, I... I"m sorry I wasn't there sooner." His voice broke. "I tried..."

The words reverbed in her hearing. "Kaminari... Sit." She patted the bed next to him. He tensed, looking away. Before she knew it, her hand was patting the mattress next to her. "Seriously, sit down. Sit."

Leaving the door wide open as per the rules, Kaminari crossed to the bed, sitting on it's edge as she scooted forward. She could see the tension in his shoulders and back, in his neck. She set her hand on his. He sighed. "I'm sorry."

She gripped his hand. "Stop it." She squeezed his hand hard when his jaw started to move. "No, don't apologize. You got there in time. Plenty of time."

"But I took too long. If I had been faster..."

-  
-ua-  
-

"I'm coming, Jack! Hold on!" There was one thing about his quirk that most people didn't think about. They thought the headset was decorative, or just a communications rig that he was powering himself. And in a way, it was- it converted his quirk into a radio signal. It had taken a lot of work to be able to make it understandable. With it, he could 'talk' and run at the same time. And was glad for all the times he hadn't quit when running.

"Chargebolt! Wait for backup."

Kaminari's annoyance expressed itself in a blast of static as his boots pounded on the sidewalk. Jirou normally didn't leave her comm on vox, but push-to-talk, so she could talk. Everyone did. Every pounding beat of his boots seemed like an eternity of silence. She wasn't talking. Jirou was quiet. Quiet was bad. It was dead air. _Don't die, Jirou!_

The crowd at the crosswalk was too thick, they couldn't part. Without thinking, his boot came down on the fire hydrant, the next step landing on the hood of a stopped car. Step, jump, step, step, jump, step, step, then down on the pavement. He stumbled, but he fell loose rather than trying to catch himself, taking it on his shoulder and coming up on his feet. Any other time, he'd be excited- he never made that roll work in training, mostly because he'd second guess himself because falling on your face hurt. But this time it worked, he did it, because he had to. "Jirou!"

A tiny sliver of his mind was still contemplative. _Plus Ultra_, go beyond. It wasn't the first time he'd had to push himself past his limits. But this time, it felt different.

He ignored the orders to stop as he rounded the corner of the station. He could see their suspect, Onehit Wonder. The work boot going up, then stomping down at the black and pink and red object on the track. Connecting with her chest.

Denki jumped for the fence, grabbing the pipe at the top. The suspect's boot came back as he pulled himself up and rolled over the razor wire. Even as the wire shredded his jacket, everything moved in slow motion. He shouted an instinctive command. "Stop!"

As he landed, the cocked foot snapped forward, connecting with Kyouka's ear. Skin tore, blood sprayed, painting her face with her life as he heard the crack of bone. It wasn't like a drum stick cracking or a chicken bone, it was deeper. Sharper. Fear filled him. Then the lightening. He was filled with light, blue-white and so hot it was cold. He became the light. No more Denki Kaminari, no more Chargebolt, just the lightening.

Then everything was black.

-  
-ua-  
-

"...you wouldn't have been hurt."

She ran her fingers along his arm, tracing the bandages. "I could say its part of the job. Or that you saved me."

"If it wasn't for Recovery Girl-"

"Kaminari, stop. You can't what-if yourself to death. Remember what Hound-sensei told us."

Before he could reply, they heard the thump of the front door opening echoing up the stairs. It was too far to make out the words, but they could hear Iida- probably telling everyone not to mob her. Kaminari started to stand up. He wanted to hide from every one right now. Now that he'd seen she was ok, he could hide from her. "Thats the others. I should..."

"Denki no go..."

Chargebolt froze in mid step towards the hall. She'd never called him by his given name. "So you heard about that. I don't remember it, but they showed me the video." It wasn't a lie. He didn't remember saying that. But normally when he fried himself, the last thought that went through his brain was something like 'you can do this, you're a hero'. This time, he was screaming, with the only thought, the only feeling, coursing through him being 'you killed her'...

"I saw some of it. You caused a black out and melted the lamp post- thats pretty metal." She held her hand out to him.

"Apparently." He shrugged, but hung his head. He'd... he'd take whatever punishment came. Just so long as he didn't have to admit why he'd lost control like that. He felt guilty and ashamed and if he told her, it would be embarrassing.

"Thank you, Denki. You're my friend. Not for this, you already were. My friend, I mean." _That could have smoother._ "Still-"

"Really?"

"Of course. And when I think my head is ready, maybe we should go to a movie or something. When you can leave the dorm." She fingered one of her earjacks nervously. That had come out, but she meant it.

"It would be a good celebration, I think everyone would-"

She shook her head. She'd made up her mind, but she hadn't been able to think of the right way to say it. To play it. It had to be improve. Jamming with Jammingway. "Not everyone, Kaminari. Just the two of us."

"You mean... like... a. A, uhm..."

She stopped playing with her earjack and stood up from her bed. Two steps, and she could rest her hand on his elbow. She knew she was blushing "Yeah... like... uhm.. one of those."

"Really?" He was blushing to.

'_Whatever the truth is, tell him._' The advice from Aizawa-sensei. Other advice mixed with it. _'Show, don't tell.'_

"Really." She kissed his cheek lightly, the blush was warm. He smelt... good. Then she could smell ozone. She jumped back as her hair started to stand. She saw the electricity arc from his foot and hand to the outlet by the door, mostly grounding itself. But not completely. The over head lights in her room flared for a split second, then every breaker in the building flipped at that moment, plunging them into darkness.

And through all of the screams and the random swearing that filtered up from the common rooms and from down the hall, all she heard was "wayyyyyy".

**Author's Notes:** I'll leave it to you decide if the Onepunch Wonder still had a functional nervous system after Kaminari found his inner Thor. A static shock is like 20-25 thousand volts at amps that are irrelevant and it hurts; household current in the US format is 120 (mean) amps and 12 amps, and so long as your skin is dry that is highly survivable but really hurts. A "typical" lightening strike is around 30 million volts at 100 thousand amps. I think Kaminari was atypically annoyed, stepping up from stun gun to bug zapper.

And since I forget what most people don't know. Electricity can be thought of as a really weird, water unfriendly fluid. If we do so, volts are equivalent to pressure, while amperage (current) is the flow rate. Sorta. The analogy is super suspect, but it works for conversational purposes. And since watts is your voltages times your amps, typical lightening bolts are 3,000 Gigawatts.

And I guess I'm fwuffy. This was suppose to be bloody grim. And instead, I shipped the Pro Hero Duo Amp. At least that's what I call them- he can be measured in amperage, and her power with her gear makes her an amplifier. And there is a lot of amps in an amp. As for a "pre amp", it cleans the noise out of the signal and boosts a weak one, allows an amplifier actually boost the signal so others can hear. These two write their own puns.


	4. Even a Madman

**Legends Yet Unwritten  
****Chapter 4: Even a Madman**

"Ah, Aizawa, excellent."

"You wanted to see me, Sensei?" Eraserhead had come right away. The text hadn't had words like 'urgent' or 'immediately' or 'problem'. Just that Nezu wanted his input on something 'curious'. If Nezu, of all the lifeforms in Japan, found something 'curious', there was a good chance that other words would apply. Like 'dangerous', 'villains', 'crisis', or worse.

"Yes. This came to me from Tartarus. Apparently, one of their inmates earned an hour of fresh air a week for good behavior, and immediately asked to send one letter instead." Nezu nodded to the chairs before the desk, before holding out an envelope. They'd already received permission from the parents of the students to do things like filter mail through the school administration after the young heroes were in the dorms. It helped to weed out a lot of the hopelessly infatuated, the genuinely creepy and various requests to endorse some product or another. And challenges to duels. "I'd like your opinion before I decide what to do."

Asking who it was for would be the height of illogical thinking. If Aizawa's input was being sought, it was for one of twenty annoyances. Twenty two if you counted Shinsou and Eri, but Eri was never an annoyance. He leaned forward for the packet before sitting down. When he took the papers from the envelope, they were on a soft, limp foolscrap, and written with a felt tip pen. You couldn't give someone a papercut, and the rubber bodied markers they used at that prison couldn't be sharpened into shanks. The hand that had written it was very graceful, the calligraphy as fine as any Aizawa had ever seen. At the very top was the stamp of approval from the censoring officer- the guests of Tartarus never saw the sun and never spoke freely.

_My dear young man._

_I must apologize for neglecting to write for such a long time._

_I have recently been granted the privilege of reading newspapers. They are not fresh, but I'm told that only a few of my neighbors have it. Fewer should have it- scum, every single one of them. But enough about them. I understand you've been busy. I had to read between the lines, but what I was able to learn was enough._

_I had no doubt you'd continued your hero's journey. I hope that the raid on the yakuza filth was the deepest your path will take you into the underworld, but there is a very old expression my grandmother was fond of about wishing in one hand. I gather that you've not only continued to be the paragon of heroism that I saw, but that you and All Might have been spreading the spirit of true greatness at your school. If world is a temple to the false hero, keep flipping the tables, my boy. Flip the tables! And true heroes will rise up if there are any._

_I am grieved to learn of All Might's retirement, and I'm glad he is not dead. He can still be a symbol and teach the hero's lesson to the world even if he can no longer fight in the streets. I hope the boy who's freedom he bought with his strength was worth it- perhaps some day you will be able to tell me. I expect you to fill in in All Might's place, if not his literal shoes. And that is why I have traded fifty two hours of fresh air over the next year for this paper and pen._

_I hope you have read the old American philosopher Joeseph Campbell's work. If you haven't, find his books, unpopular though the gejin may be with certain agencies in our great and wise government. Read it, my boy. I do not think he meant it to be a literal voyage into the underworld, but unlike Orpheus you did not look back. I know one of your young comrades was gravelly wounded. From the interview with him, a comrade who it seems I would think a hero of much the same stripe as yourself- if so, I hope he makes a full recovery. A little girl, Midorya-san, or should I say Deku. You went in to save the innocent against long odds, and along the way helped remove a cancer from the body of society. From what I've learned, that man was truly wicked, exploiting a child. Bravo, my young hero. Bravo!_

_That is what you are. You are my Hero._

_I know your teachers and your parents and those around you will tell you I"m a villain, but you know my motives. Perhaps our methods are different, but our dream is the same. Do not surrender your dreams, Deku. I surrendered my dreams. Be that hero, the true hero. My hero. And if you can forgive me for scars left from our prior debate, perhaps you can assure me that the little girl is well. For that, I'll trade fresh air for the next decade._

_Your convictions are pure, and your will is strong. If you do not fall into the trap of ego, you shall be the hero that reclaims and purifies that title. So long as you do that, I can smile here in Tartarus. I can whistle in this man made Hell. (When I do so, it also scares many of the other forms of filthy consigned to this pit with me.)_

_Since you shall see him long before I will, please give my regards to All Might._

_Eternally your servant,_  
_Akaguro Chizome (Stain)_

_-P.S. If you do write, and you are fellow devote, tell me if the reviews of Episode LXXVII were accurate. Movie critics are worse than heroes._

Aizawa read it five times before closing his eyes. The school did have the books in the library, and the philosophical model of a heroic narrative was one of the topics Midnight covered in her heroic art classes. It was fan mail, which they usually passed on. But from a homicidal maniac, and a not completely coherent one at that.

He read it again, leaning back with a sigh. "Midoriya would write back."

Nezu smiled gently. "The question I face is should young Deku learn of this letter."

Another sigh. "I would say ask his mother, but All Might seems to consider this his personal protectorate. I know there was a rumor that they are related. Is there truth to it?"

"Irrelevant, but no more than those I've heard about you and Shinsou." Nezu chuckled at the flush that crossed his student's cheeks. "And you're trying to change the subject."

"What is this episode seventy seven?"

"Just a movie, part of a series that the Hero Killer is apparently a fan of. You can ask All Might, I think he is a fan as well."

"Ah." Aizawa stared down at the letter. "I can think of no logical reason to say no. Stain will not convert him with this. But I think it should be kept secret from all but Todoroki and Iida after he reads it, and that I and Toshinori should be with him when he reads this. In your office, Sensei."

Nezu's lips quirked up on one side. "Why is that, young Aizawa?"

Shouta's head twitched up. He'd not been called '_Aizawa-shonen_' since he'd graduated. In fact, Nezu had been the last one to call him that. "You're testing me. There are too many rumors about Honshu, but that is all they are, and these three boys have not told anyone the full truth of their involvement. I think Tensei suspects what his little brother had in mind, but that the others saved him from himself. Endevour would never let the ruse slip, if not for his son then for his own ego, nor would Manual or Gran Torino. The rumors are either coming from the police or the Commission." He paused. "There is no harm in this, and it will be a lesson that not all fans are good fans- the boys don't get the same letters the girls do, and this is much more perverse." Those didn't get passed along- the worst of them he personally handed to the police. He and Midnight were going to cover that with them next year, but that didn't change that he wanted to visit the scum that wrote that about his students and give them a reason to fear the dark. "If it was something we could acknowledge in public, I'd be in favor of all my kids reading this, but those three will do."

The smile broke wider on the principle's face. 'My kids', not even 'my class' but 'my kids'. It was not the first time Aizawa's precise tongue had slipped in that manner. There had been other groups to earn the title "hell class"- Aizawa's had become one of them- but this group of his was one for the books. Not even a term into school, and they'd had to cover up the students' actions at Honsu, I-Island and Kamino. And he was as certain as their teacher that what had slipped out about Honsu and the raid had not been from them.

But also, Nezu knew something that Aizawa didn't. He knew who the next Principle of UA would be, say in ten years. Assuming his students didn't kill him in the process.

**Author's notes: **"Principal Aizawa". That has a nice ring to it.

I haven't posted anything in over a month. I'm not as happy with this as I'd like, but I can't find anything that doesn't work. Maybe it's just me being uncomfortable with letting Stain be a fellow Star Wars fan. Or maybe it's just that Nezu is right. He does have a black ops team forming behind his walls. Charles Xavier had X Force. In a world where heroes are famous and license their likeness for pop culture trinkets, how can that even work? Or is it an open secret (at least in the hero community) that hero program students do the things these kids have? In which case I've been most unkind to Class

I also think this raid will be PRed into a child protective services raid as far as the greater public needs to know. Maybe throw in some narcotics and tax evasion. The details of what they were doing can never be known to the general public, or they will panic. Honor hiding behind lies, truth concealed, sacrific half behind cover. But even my jaded soul screams at the idea of _strip mining_ a little girl. Such a horror... no. The people must not know that.


End file.
